The Butterfly Effect
by electricity.escape
Summary: Just because we were popular and fought, didn't mean we did not care. We were real friends. And now, things were tolerable, but just not the same. The rest of the eighth grade, told from the members of a now non-existent Pretty Committee. Post PSILY.
1. Prologue

_-The Butterfly Effect-_

What if:

- I never decided to speak to that girl (second row, fourth seat to the left) in History Class

- I never answered that IM in sixth grade

- I never ran off with Olivia at the _Hell Freezes Over _party

What would have changed?

Would it be easier to let go?

As evil and conniving she was, _they_ were, it was impossible to ignore them. It's impossible to just simply _break_ a friendship.

And we sit in five different corners of the cafeteria- some in closer proximity to one another- trying to out "I'm having more fun than you with my new friends" each other.

And as we remind ourselves that so-and-so did this-and-that, we realize one thing-

It's just not the same.


	2. Alicia

While sitting in the cafeteria, you survey the area.

The café is lively, yet calm, with a hint of monotony, a result of grasping that the majority of schools were coed. (i.e., acting like crazy, desperate whores because boys now attended your school was an embarrassment.)

And you realize, upon looking at the seven other girls in at your table-

You can have fun with them, _for now_.

_The Butterfly Effect_

_-Alicia-_

If she never ran off with Olivia at the _Hell Freezes Over_ party, she wouldn't be here now.

She would still be under Massie's wing. She missed her though- as a friend, _never_ as an alpha.

But when she touched her vacant Yankees cap hair for frizz, she knew something was lost too.

Her relationship with Josh didn't end with a dramatic throw-cap-on-the-ground-and-stomp-off (something expected from herself). But it fizzled slowly into a puddle of confusion and "What the hell happened?" glances across the hall.

And her infamous hat?

She could have left it somewhere, or it may have ended up in Josh's hand somehow (pre-breakup). Or maybe she had came to her senses, and the cap was now deteriorating in the mid-December chill. (She doesn't know.)

Looking around the cafeteria, she snorted to herself, upon learning that Dylan and Claire remained the most popular (only because of their boyfriends). She and her former Heart-Nets (because cheering for _soccer_ was bogus) were a close second because even with her fading popularity, she never caught The Ugly. Massie, however, trailed close behind.

It was a competition. A silent, uneventful competition. Leaving all social functions to a ladder-climbing seventh grader who bragged about them (and no one gave a shit).

"Movies tonight?" Alicia stood and asked the seven girls at Table 12, never thinking of the possible outcomes from a trip to an AMC.

Because if she didn't go to the movies she wouldn't have seen Josh there.

With a friend.

And she would have never seen them borderline "like doing it", according to a random, _classy _(prudish) BOCD bystander.

And she would have never gone through with the "most silent ex-BFF to ex-BFF bitchfightstaredown ever", according to Olivia.

And perched atop the brunette's head-

She would have never found her hat.


	3. Dylan

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the Clique or any brands mentioned.

* * *

You groan while rolling over on your bed, muting the TV in the process. You wonder why it seems that America's Next Top Model is _always_ on (in Marathon form) and shove another piece of leftover New Year's pecan pie down your throat.

It was Tyra or Twilight (viewed from and illegal online website) with your older sister in her all lavender room.

A coincidence, but you opted for Tyra.

And you realize, upon sweating in your overheated house, and watching two aspiring models bitch (rather funny as it was in mute) at each other-

You can get away with anything if you're pretty.

_The Butterfly Effect_

_-Dylan-_

If she never decided to poke Derrick's ass with a stick, she wouldn't be here now.

Alone.

In her room.

On a Friday.

Because as she returned from a vacation, Derrick's family left for one until the Saturday before school started.

Waiting for another day, she thought, didn't seem like too long.

Before she was detained in her stuffy house (due to her sick housekeeper, concerned mother, and the sleet that kept falling) and couldn't remember when an ANTM show ended and when one began.

Though she could have watched blue-tinted Twilight illegally (and repeatedly) with her sister but A) her sister's room color would make for a very uneasy Dylan and B) it irked her that her sister, one of the three that still lived in the house, wasn't anywhere besides the house on a Friday.

So she quickly rose from her bed, ran to her bathroom to throw cold water on her face, and walked toward the lavender room.

"Alex?"

Her sister wrinkled her nose and paused the video playing on her Mac (must have been a good part).

"What?" she snapped.

Dylan didn't hesitate. "Don't you have friends?"

"Of course. Why? You think I'm some loser or something?"

"No," (a lie) "but it's Friday."

"And?"

Her eyebrows furrowed like it should have been clear. "And shouldn't you be out?"

"Shouldn't _you_ be out?"

(Touché.) "It's cold and nasty outside."

"Exactly, when you're in eleventh grade and trying to relax instead of study for the SATs, it's days like today when friends become a liability rather than an asset. And then you get your gossip fix listening to your little sister's phone conversations through the walls."

(What a creeper.)

Dylan backed away from her doorframe, while her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She read the text.

"Alex," she spoke without looking up from the screen. "I have a hypothetical question. Hypothetically, if a group of friends disbanded for various reasons, and I'm speaking hypothetically, how would the group get together again?"

"Well," Alex smirked. "_Hypothetically, _if Massie and Alicia were to somehow make up, I know you and the rest of your little friends would follow. If Massie happened to apologize to _you_, you but no one else would go back to her even if you don't think so now, but were speaking _hypothetically,_ right?"

She slammed the door behind her.

Massie and Alicia were the connecting links between the five of them. (She wasn't surprised.)

"_... I know you'll get this message and that's y i only sent it to u 2 get your reaction. 'cause you're the nicest and leesh is still a little josh-jealous :) Massie"_

But in this situation she just so happened to be the middleman.

Because if Dylan _did _reply to Massie's self-help book aided, desperate, apology text-

She would have made everything worse by making it better.


	4. Claire

It's easy to take a detour to the deserted sixth grade bathrooms every day, with the sixth graders at electives at this time and a pushover teacher.

Pacing down the halls with Dylan (once again), you pass the slightly open windows. It smells like Spring and you smile.

And you realize, upon entering the place where you could talk freely-

Repetition can be enjoyable.

_The Butterfly Effect_

_-Claire-_

If she never spent so much time with Cam those fateful weeks, she wouldn't be here now.

Having a daily no-listeners conversation with Dylan as she did a makeup check, and while she leaned against one of the sinks.

"So apparently, Alicia dropped her cheer crew and made another with some other friends plus Olivia." Dylan said as she covered her face with her hands, wiping her dewy nose in front of the mirror.

"Yeah." It was neither a statement or a question, Claire unhappy that the conversation turned this way.

"Supposedly, it's some Renegade N' Rejects pack who won't let anyone else in because they don't want any drama."

Dylan paused for an answer (and didn't receive one).

She shrugged. "At least she didn't pull a Massie. She's also friends with that Shelbie girl, y'know the one with runny nose problem and the kinda-sorta lazy eye?"

Claire ran water over her finger.

"How are you and Cam doing anyway?" Dylan probed, putting her eyeliner back in her purse.

Claire huffed, because by now people didn't hope they would get back together but rather hoped they would just stay apart.

"Then right after lunch I heard from Kristen that Massie kicked out that Krista girl," she said, pinching her stomach (and frowning), "and started scouting like two seconds later. Don't you think she's gone past desperate?"

Claire shook her head quickly and it was more like a tremor. She looked down and checked her phone (though there was nothing to see).

"I don't think anything."

"Neutral, I know. But you think it's lame, right?"

"I don't think anything." Claire tilted her head towards the door. "We're past late," she mumbled.

"Bad sushi."

Claire cringed and gave a hint of a smile at the overused excuse.

"What? Madame's so oblivious it's not even funny."

(Claire chuckled anyway.)

"And it's not like I hate her," Dylan reassured Claire, "'cause I was Massie's friend once and that has to count for _something_." Dylan draped her purse over her shoulder and walked out the door. "It's way easier without her, floating around, but... yeah." They passed the windows and inhaled the same time.

Claire shrugged indifferently, biting her lip.

Because if Claire did answer her trailed off statement-

She would have admitted that she too missed the (false) security of a clique.

* * *

(AN) Too much dialogue, I know. And I know this chapter sort of reads more as a Dylan add-on than a Claire-centric but spare me.


End file.
